An extremely quiet child they called you in your school reportsSo what was it that brought the squad car screaming up your driveHe's always taken interest in the subjects that he's taughtTo notify your parents of the manner in which you diedAt St. Patricks every Sunday, Father Fletcher heard your sins

Oh, he's unconcerned with competition he never cares to winBut blood stained a young hand that never held a gunAnd his parents never thought of him as their troubled son

Now you'll never get to Heaven Mama saidGrow up straight and true blueRemember Mama saidTicking, tickingRun along to bedHear it, hear it, ticking, ticking

They had you holed up in a downtown bar screaming for a priestSome gook said His brain's just snapped" then someone called the policeYou'd knifed a Negro waiter who had tried to calm you downOh you'd pulled a gun and told them all to lay still on the ground

Promising to hurt no one, providing they were stillA young man tried to make a break, with tear-filled eyes you killed

That gun butt felt so smooth and warm cradled in your palmOh your childhood cried out in your head they mean to do you harm"

Within an hour the news had reached the media machineFourteen people lying dead in a bar they called the Kicking MuleA male caucasian with a gun had gone berserk in QueensThe area had been sealed off, the kids sent home from schoolThrow out your gun, walk out slow just keep your hands held high

Oh they pleaded to your sanity for the sake of those inside

But they pumped you full of rifle shells as you stepped out the doorOh you danced in death like a marionette on the vengeance of the lawRemember Mama saidYou've slept too long in silence Mama saidCrazy boy, you'll only wind up with strange notions in your headTicking, tickingHear it, hear it, ticking, ticking#############################################